Nepal, July 12 -- Dear Councillor,

I could say I hope you're doing well, but we both know that that would be a lie. So, I'll simply say your petty tricks will not work. You can send your men to my jail as many times as you want. You can have them beat me as much as you want, but I will not confess. No, I won't. I won't give you the satisfaction.

But I do have a query. When you order your men to beat me, do you imagine I did the same to your son? Oh, you're beautiful, darling son. Pretty on the outside, rotten on the inside. How many must have celebrated when they found him, dad, hanging from the willow tree outside your farm, his body beaten black and purple. Do you, when you order your men to beat me, tell them to beat me the same way ...